


Almost Like A Miracle

by snarkysnakes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Happy Ending, I am not a doctor, Illnesses, Implied Sexual Content, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Medical Doctor Crowley (Good Omens), Miracles, Priest Aziraphale (Good Omens), Recovery, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, so much love here, thank god for doctors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkysnakes/pseuds/snarkysnakes
Summary: In central London, Crowley works tirelessly day in and day out for the patients of Soho. He’s seen enough death to know that no god will ever answer him. When a priest called Father Fell becomes a popular source of comfort at Soho Clinic, Crowley is forced to reevaluate if miracles really do exist.CW: illness, blood, death, emotional trauma, internalized homophobia (fixed)[ON HOLD]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I give my thanks to usedtobehmc for inspiring me to finally make a priest out of Aziraphale. I had been considering it for awhile. Her comic is great, check it out!
> 
> Forewarning - Crowley's story is heavily based on my own relationship and experiences with religion. If you find it relatable, I hope it brings you reassurance that it will all be alright in the end.

Soho Clinic was especially busy. Doctors and nurses flitted from room to room, bed to bed, patient to patient. Anthony J. Crowley was among them - a physician for fifteen years, in Soho for five. Being in his mid-forties, Crowley is sure he's seen it all. He's grown accustomed to it. 

Like today: a child came in with a crayon stuck so far up his nose that it was probably tickling his brain. Has Dr. Crowley seen crayons stuck up other places? Yes. Yes he has. It would be funny, were it not for the possibility that the child may need reconstructive surgery. Not his specialty, anyway. 

Most times, his patients leave the hospital in a matter of days, at most weeks. But sometimes, the patients stayed longer. They were harder to treat, harder to heal, and especially hard to lose. 

Crowley was not the first to take a look at Adam Young. The kid had gone through a dozen doctors, not one of them being able to deduce what was wrong. Many nights Crowley would rush into Adam's room to find him in a coughing fit, blood splattered on the white sheets of the hospital bed. Warlock, Crowley's trainee, was often at Adam's aid before he even arrived. 

_I need to put in another good word for him_ , Crowley thought every time. Warlock was a good kid, though his lack of bedside manner would argue otherwise. Granted, he probably learned that from Crowley. 

One night, after Adam's parents had left (they visited their son every day, and his friends visited him every week), Bee, his supervisor, asked to see him. 

Going to Bee's office was not ideal. It was hell on earth. Crowley actually _shivered_ at the thought of having to see them. He knocked on the door anyway. "Come in," a flat voice responded. 

"Dr. Zebub! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Drop the praize. This iz about your patient, Adam Young."

Crowley stood straighter. "The tests, have they -"

Bee held up a hand. "Unfortunately, no. Sit," they instructed. Their lisp was more subtle this time around, as if they were trying to say the next few things very carefully. "Although Adam Young haz no religious preference, hiz parents have requested a priest. You should expect to see him tomorrow."

Crowley shifted uncomfortably. "A priest?"

"Yez, Dr. Crowley. Patients are allowed to receive visits from the church, az you know. Do not ask questionz."

"Of course, yeah. No, I know," Crowley muttered. 

Later in the night, safely in his Mayfair flat, Crowley groaned. "Shitshitshitshit," he whined. "Why me? A priest of all things!"

The thing was, Crowley had seen enough death in the last fifteen years to decide that a god did not exist. And if a god _did_ exist, they answered to no one. At least not to him. 

Crowley knew he shouldn't invest himself personally in a patient. He knew he was setting himself up for grief. But that's just how things were. 

Miracles like that just don't happen.


	2. Father Fell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale reunites with Adam and meets his doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did change the summary of the story a bit because I thought it fit better ;)  
> Thanks to everyone who's read so far!

Father Aziraphale Fell was from the quaint village of Tadfield, just outside of London. He'd been absolutely _delighted_ when the Youngs had asked for him to visit. Ever since the family moved to Soho for better medical care, it had been ages since Aziraphale last saw Adam's face. 

Although Adam was allowed to leave the hospital when his coughing fits became scarce, his parents didn't want to risk going back to Tadfield in the case that they started up again or got worse. And of course, they always did. Aziraphale hadn't been detailed on the nature of these sporadic fits, but from what he could gather, they were awful. He was so heartbroken to hear that the boy's condition had not yet been determined. 

_How horrible_ , he thought, for the doctors and nurses taking care of him. And how horrible for Adam himself. If anything, perhaps just a familiar face would make the boy happier. 

Convincing Archbishop Gabriel to have him transferred to the cathedral in Soho for a few months had been surprisingly easy. Aziraphale knew that the man was probably in it for his own image - an image of good will. No matter. Aziraphale would take what he could get. 

So, he rented a room at a fascinating little inn, run by an even more fascinating woman named Madame Tracy. When the priest had arrived in the early morning to settle in, they'd shared a nice cup of tea. It made him feel more at home. 

The Youngs were waiting outside for him the next day at 8am. They greeted him warmly, starting up some small talk. Or at least, Deirdre did. Arthur had never been the talking type. 

"When do you start giving sermons at the cathedral? Arthur and I don't think the pastor there is very good. It would be much better to hear yours again."

Aziraphale felt his face heat at the compliment. "Oh, why thank you, my dear. I start in three days. For the Sunday service, of course."

He was excited to get to know the community of Soho, and maybe spread a little more reassurance to more people than just Adam. In a few minutes drive they were pulling into the guest car park of Soho Clinic. A young woman with large, round spectacles on her nose greeted them at the front desk. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Young! Let me get you checked in and you can head back with Nurse Pulsifer here," the receptionist said, gesturing to an awkward looking young man by her side. "Adam's been feeling better this morning, so we can allow Father Fell here back as well."

"Oh, thank you, my dear girl," Aziraphale said with a smile. The girl just gave him a strange smile in return and let Nurse Pulsifer take them down the hallway. 

Entering Adam's room, Aziraphale could tell he was receiving much attention from his friends back in Tadfield, if the balloons and letters were anything to go by. He remembered that silly group. What did they call themselves again? _The Them._

Hovering by Adam's bedside were two men: a 20-something-year-old with dark hair and an older gentleman around his own age who Aziraphale presumed to be the doctor. _I do hope he's friendly,_ Aziraphale thought. He'd never done this before. The church was his element, not the hospital. 

"Dr. Crowley, the Youngs are here," Nurse Pulsifer said. 

"Ah, great, come in," the doctor replied. "Thanks."

Once the nurse left, the Youngs approached Adam's bed. Aziraphale stayed respectfully off to the edge of the room, not wanting to intrude. 

"Is he asleep?" Deirdre asked.

"It's rather early for him to be awake, but he should be energized once the IV does its work. Just a precaution." The doctor - Dr. Crowley - whispered something to the dark-haired boy, who nodded and left the room as well. Then he turned to Aziraphale, peeling off his gloves. "Father Fell, is it?"

"Oh, ehm, y-yes," the priest stammered, shaking the hand that was offered to him. This man had the most _stunning_ golden-brown eyes he'd ever seen. "T-Though you could call me Aziraphale, should you prefer. I've known Adam since he was just a boy."

"Oh."

The lack of a response had Aziraphale picking at the sleeve of his cassock. _Perhaps he's like Arthur_ , he rationalized. It wasn't unheard of for doctors to be people of few words. God knows they have other things to worry about. Still, he found himself wishing to impress Dr. Crowley. He'd always tended to be a people pleaser. 

Eventually, the dark-haired boy returned, a few bins in hand. He placed them in a cupboard and once again stood by the bedside. As if on cue, Adam opened his eyes. Upon seeing his parents' faces, he immediately tried to sit up. 

"Ah ah - Warlock, get him back down," Dr. Crowley said over his should. Warlock did as told, and Aziraphale noted his name. 

"How's my little boy?" Deirdre cooed, pushing back Adam's hair. 

"I'm nineteen, mum," Adam grinned. "But I'm doin' alright."

"Guess who's here to see you?"

Aziraphale stepped forward and waved cheerily. A few moments passed before Adam's eyes widened with recognition and he tried to sit up again. Dr. Crowley whipped around, mouth open, but Warlock beat him to it. 

"You're gonna detach the IV," he muttered.

"Sorry, sorry," Adam said, laying down once more. His grin grew wider. "What are you doing here, Father Fell?!"

"Why, to visit you of course! I've arranged to stay in Soho for a few months. That is, if you don't tire of me too quickly." In his peripheral vision, Aziraphale could see Dr. Crowley leaving the room. "...And to, well, offer some blessings, should you want them."

"C'mon, I can't get tired of you!" 

Aziraphale was ecstatic. They caught up for a bit while Arthur and Deirdre went down to the hospital's cafe for breakfast. they did have jobs, after all. Aziraphale noticed Adam cough a few times but didn’t comment, as Warlock was still in the room just in case. The priest had been delighted when the trainee joined in on their conversation a few times. He knew that he couldn’t talk to Adam forever, though. The boy’s eyes were starting to droop just as his parents returned to bid him goodbye for the day. 

Hoping to catch Dr. Crowley on the way out, Aziraphale loitered in the lobby, telling the Youngs that he’d simply walk back to the inn. It was only a fifteen minute walk, anyway. But the priest hadn’t seen the redhead since 8am. 

Instead, he wrote a note and handed it to the receptionist with the round spectacles.


End file.
